


Forbidden

by Cerch



Series: Summer Pornathon -15 [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Knifeplay, Murder, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerch/pseuds/Cerch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana and Arthur meet after a year apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forbidden

**Author's Note:**

> Written for challenge four, forbidden, of Summer Pornathon 2015. (In case you are wondering where my week three entry is it's staying anon for now because I don't like it.) This is unbetaed so apologises for any mistakes!

_Surely, if the gods wed a sister to bother there could be no wrong intheir love either, Arthur had insisted, and Morgana had thrown her head back and laughed in scandalised delight._

Morgana’s face is covered by a mask of black and gold with dark red feathers fanning out like a scandalous hair, and yet he recognises her the moment he lays his eyes on her. He knows the lovely curve of her breasts and the sway of her hips, unchanged though he hasn’t seen her in a year, not since Uther found out about them and sent her away. 

They meet at the edge of the dance floor and he draws her into a daring dance where each of their touches lingers too long and their bodies are always closer than appropriate, yet not as close as they yearn. He catches whiffs of her sweet perfume, leaving him mad with the desire to bury his nose against her skin to find her real scent.

When the music fades to signify the end of the dance, Arthur draws her close. “Come home with me,” he whispers, and she nods, eyes shining behind the dark holes of her mask. 

***

Morgana’s hand flutters over the smooth red velvet covers of Arthur’s bed. They have removed their masks but they haven’t kissed, not yet, and Arthur’s lips itch with the wait. He takes a step towards her, but she stops him with a reproachful look and lifts her leg to the bed, slowly gliding her dress up. Every inch of skin revealed makes Arthur’s blood burn brighter, but what almost stops his breathing is the leg strap, holding two small knives. 

Smirking, Morgana hands him one of them. 

“Why don’t you help me out of these clothes and I’ll do the same for you?” 

_Gods._ She twirls the other knife around in her fingers, the blade flashing when it catches the dim light coming from the window. 

His hand trembles when he lifts the knife to rest against the skin just above the neckline of the dress. Morgana’s breath hitches at the contact – he both hears it and sees the movement of her skin under the blade. 

He focuses, steadies his hand, and ever so carefully starts to cut the fabric down. It’s easy and it would be even easier to press ever so slightly more, to cut the pale skin underneath and paint her with red pearls. 

She shrugs the dress over her shoulders and lets it pool to the ground behind her feet. Her breasts are still covered with flimsy lace, but she wears no underpants, the wild dark hair between her legs begging for him to bury his fingers or face in it. His already straining cock weeps against the fabric of his trousers at the thought. 

He takes her wrist, and she lets out a throaty chuckle as he drags her to bed after him, but when he reaches for a kiss she lifts her knife challengingly and he stills. 

She sits on top of him, cunt wet against his trousers, and with small, precise cuts she destroys the ridiculously expensive fabric of his clothes. He is almost trembling with need yet also high with the control he is extruding on his body, forcing it to complete stillness despite how much he wants. 

“Look at you,” she purrs, resting the tip of the knife against his skin without drawing blood. “So beautiful and good for me.” 

“Please.” He doesn’t say it, only forms the words with his lips, and she swallows them away with a quick kiss. But she places her knife away, peels his fingers open from the hilt of the other one – and as soon as they’re gone she rips their remaining clothes away and turns him around. 

Her finger traces down his cleft. 

“Have you let anyone else touch you here?” she asks, her breath falling on his left buttock and making him shiver. 

He shakes his head against the pillows – she rewards him with her mouth, licking and sucking, then finally pushing in and licking there until he comes, sobbing and trying to both push against her tongue and rub his cock against the sheets. 

She rides herself to orgasm on his face, filling his senses with her smell and taste, collapsing next to him with a beautiful, choked breath. 

_Later one of the knives finds its way into the chest of sleeping Uther Pendragon. The murderer is never found._

**Author's Note:**

> Rest of the entries can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4628631/chapters/10553718).


End file.
